


i hate everything about you (or four times douglas murray tries to pretend he hates antti niemi, and one time he's just a totally shit liar.)

by littlesnowpea



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, look i can write fluff too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 16:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesnowpea/pseuds/littlesnowpea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Antti Niemi is impossible to hate, unless you dig the whole 'princess' vibe he puts out. Which Douglas does. Doesn't. Whatever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hate everything about you (or four times douglas murray tries to pretend he hates antti niemi, and one time he's just a totally shit liar.)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last season when I was trying to write 'keep running into walls'. But then fluff poured out of me instead.

**douglas murray doesn’t blush [time one]**

Antti Niemi blushed a lot for a grown ass man. Douglas absolutely and irrevocably did not find this trait endearing in any way. At all. Period. The end. Why the fuck was he blushing again, that was like the third time this practice and-

“You have beautiful eyes!”

Oh.

The fucking teenage girl looked smug as hell at Niemi’s stumbling reaction and please that had to be all for show, no one blushed that much. It was, like, physically impossible. Or something.

Niemi was turning around though, and for all Douglas hated the man and that stupid red face, he’d been staring at him pretty openly and probably had the most unintelligent look on his face ever right now. He settled quickly on pasting a furious glare over his previous washy look, and ok, that might have been too extreme since now Niemi was giving him The Eyebrow and Douglas refrained from rolling his eyes. Barely.

“You have beautiful eyes,” he mimicked and Niemi blushed again and no, it wasn’t cute, damnit. Niemi threw him a haughty look, only slightly betrayed by the red still staining his cheeks.

“Jealous?” he asked and Douglas fumed. 

“What the fuck would I be jealous of?” Douglas snapped back and Niemi looked vaguely affronted. 

“I don’t know, I think I bring a lot to the table,” and damnit, the Finn was smirking now and Douglas wasn’t amused. 

“Your mom brings a lot to the table.” 

That was probably the most intelligent thing Douglas had ever said. Except not.

Niemi laughed and Douglas fought hard against an answering smile because, ok, Niemi has a really nice laugh and- nope, stop right there.

 

“If it makes you feel better, I think you have really pretty eyes yourself,” Niemi accompanied this with a smirk and oh hell no, Douglas felt his cheeks grow warm. He opened his mouth to snap a hopefully witty retort out but Niemi tipped him an obnoxious wink and strutted- yes, strutted, the man couldn’t walk any other way, off in the general direction of his car and Douglas was left fuming by the locker room door and fuck that guy, seriously.  
\--  
 **nemo is a goddamn fish. [time two]**

Of all the fucking nicknames in the world, people had to go with Nemo for the goalie who must not be named. Douglas hated that nickname, namely because it did not make the other man seem more endearing in any possible way at all. He yanked off his gear with a scowl, throwing his practice jersey at the laundry hamper with a lot more force than was strictly necessary. 

Jumbo looked at him pointedly and Douglas ignored him, choosing instead to maturely mutter under his breath in a mix of Swedish and English. 

“Som är en korkad fan nickname,” he spat out under his breath, tugging his arm protectors off next and flung them to the locker room floor, where they bounced away from him. He purposefully didn’t look at the rest of the team as he stood up and stalked toward the showers and where he could rant to himself in relative peace.

“What’s wrong with who’s nickname?” 

Or not. Doug turned to throw an annoyed glare at the captain before going back to his private world of Antti Niemi And His Stupid Nickname Does Not Exist. Jumbo seemed oblivious to Douglas’ burning need for don’t fucking talk to me and merely stepped in the shower opposite.

“You know, whatever is wrong with whoever’s nickname seems lessened somehow by the fact that your nickname is Crankshaft,” Jumbo continued talking to him as if Douglas didn’t have murder written all over his face. “And apparently, also Refrigerator.” 

“At least it’s not a fucking fish,” Douglas said without thinking and Jumbo smirked like he knew it all along. That annoying little bastard. 

“Right,” Jumbo said, like he didn’t believe he was stuck with someone this stupid on his team. “If you say so.”

“It’s a stupid nickname!” Doug protested, glaring hard at the other man. “It is! And he blushes all the fucking time, it’s annoying.”

“Do you not like him or something?” Jumbo asked sarcastically and Douglas flipped him off. “Wow, I couldn’t tell, you were being really subtle.”

“He’s annoying,” Douglas muttered lamely. Jumbo nodded enthusiastically.

“Yep, super annoying,” he chirped. “So annoying you can’t stop thinking about him, right?”  
   
“Don’t start,” Douglas warned and Jumbo smirked. 

“Whatever you say, ‘I think Nemo is cute’,” Jumbo said dismissively.

“It’s a stupid nickname!”

“I’m sure it is.”

Douglas wished, not for the first time, that he could live on a planet where everyone wasn’t fucking irritating.  
\--  
 **who the fuck has dimples? [time three]**

Dimples were Douglas Murray’s number one pet peeve. No, really. They made the unfortunate person who had them look to be about ten years old and please that is not something Douglas found attractive. Fucking dimples were annoying as fuck, so clearly, that Stupid Fucking Goaltender definitely had to have them.

First blushing, then the nickname, now dimples? And Jumbo had the balls to ask what was so annoying about Nem- Niemi. Would he like Douglas to go alphabetically or chronologically?

Except he really couldn’t answer that question, because answering that question would be admitting that he noticed anything at all about Niemi and/or that he had a list of things he noticed about the Stupid Finn, which Doug absolutely, positively, one hundred per cent did not.

“Wow, that wall must have really offended you,” who the fuck made Jumbo captain? Did they not check to make sure he a) knew how to mind his own business and b) wasn’t the most obnoxious man on the plant?

“Do you want me to punch it for you?” Obviously, they did not manage to check either of those things, and Doug threw the most patronizing glare he could muster over at the smirking Canadian. 

“The wall has done nothing to me,” he managed to grit out before going back to tying his sneakers. He pointedly ignored Joe’s sarcastic hmmm and stood, hoping his face was impassive.

 

Joe stood purposefully in his way, leaning all over the wall and blocking at least two-thirds of the doorway with his fat ass. Douglas gritted his teeth in a remarkable show of pacifism and reached out to shove the other man. 

“Excuse me,” he added after receiving the ‘I’m-Captain-goddamnit-respect-me’ look, and Joe smirked, the fucker. 

“You have room,” he informed Douglas, still smirking, apparently oblivious to the rage building in the short-tempered Swede. But, no, of course he wasn’t fucking oblivious, he knew exactly what the fuck he was doing, and normally Doug would have just rolled his eyes and walked past the fucker, but no, not this time. This time, Joe had coincidentally decided to be an asshole when the quiet Goalie Who Must Not Be Named was sitting at his stall, carefully arranging his pads like the freak he was, and Douglas was absolutely not about to push past Joe and have to actually communicate with the other man. 

“Jumbo. Move,” he hissed and Joe just smirked more before turning his head away from Doug to talk animatedly to the other Joe and Doug felt mildly homicidal. He sighed irritably before eying the space Joe had left, which seemed to be shrinking under his very gaze. He steeled himself and walked purposefully toward it, intending on shoving Jumbo hard enough to move him and not having to talk to/interact with/make eye contact with Nem- Niemi. 

 

It didn’t quite work out the way Doug anticipated, because that was how Douglas’ life went now, apparently. Jumbo was a little more stable than Doug had estimated, resulting in Doug somehow bouncing off Jumbo’s ass and landing hard in Niemi’s lap. Because, again, this was Doug’s life now. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to avert his eyes but they seemed magnetized to the goalie’s face. Nemo- oh for the love of God, he may as well start using the dumb fucking nickname, it was easier than correcting himself all the time- was blushing, of course, but upon hearing Douglas’ apology, he began to grin over the blush, and fuck Doug’s life, seriously.

The man had dimples.

Doug scrambled to his feet and stumbled through another apology, exiting quickly through the door before he did something to further embarrass himself.

Like smiling back.

**those lips are ridiculous. [time four]**

Doug found himself drawn into watching Nemo talk-or, rather, listen. Like, all the time. Whenever the man was listening to another person, Douglas’ eyes snapped to look at him as if they had been trained. Most of the time, Doug didn’t even have to think about it, it just happened. Which, by the way, was creepy as fuck. 

Around the fifth or thousandth time he’d done it, Douglas suddenly realized why Nemo was so fascinating to watch while he was listening. His fucking lips. His fucking poofy-ass girl lips were what drew Douglas in, and wow, Doug was ready to just quit at life right now, he was so pathetic. Nemo’s fucking lips were mesmerizing and furthermore, he bit them all the fucking time and it was really distracting, there was no way anyone could focus on anything else when Nemo was right in front of them, practically being obscene.

“Stop biting your lips,” he muttered to the goalie as they were getting ready to line up. Nemo shot him a confused look and Douglas just shook his head, silently chastising himself for speaking in the first place. 

The muttered command Doug had given didn’t seem to register or have any effect upon the blond Finn. The man just cheerfully went about his interviews with the same look of concentration and the fucking lip biting and by the time he was ready to leave, Douglas felt a little crazy. 

“Stop biting your lips,” Doug told the goalie again, louder this time, with the hopes that it might actually work. Sort of. Nemo raised and eyebrow and Doug hoped he wouldn’t be treated to the Blush again. 

“Why?” Ok, that was a valid question, but Douglas still bristled a bit under the scrutiny.

“Because it’s distr- bad for your lips,” he answered in a rush, mortification seeping in from his gut. Shit. 

If Nemo heard his slip-up, he gave no indication of it.

“They hurt,” he answered with a shrug. “After the game, they’re dry and they hurt.”

No. ‘Kiss them better’ was not an acceptable response. You are not a teenage boy. 

“Use ChapStick?” Douglas suggested and Antt-Nemo gave him the patented _no shit_ face. 

“I usually don’t have any,” Nemo told him, the question 'are you stupid?' unspoken in the words. 

“Use mine?” Why did Douglas speak, ever. He felt a little hot but cleared his throat and forced the feeling of embarrassment down. He was just offering a friend a favor. Sort of. Not really. 

 

Nemo was smiling though, and a real, full-out smile, not the sarcastic ones he gives the media or the plastic ones he gives fans. A genuine smile and wow, Douglas didn’t need to feel happy about a fucking smile.

“Thank you,” Antt- Nemo said, and Doug nodded, feeling a bit lightheaded. 

Was this what insanity felt like? It must have been, and if Douglas had gone insane, he placed full blame of Antti Niemi’s Ridiculous Lips.

**douglas murray still doesn’t blush-but maybe he could make an exception. [the time where he’s a shit liar]**

It had been a couple weeks of what Douglas was sure was pure insanity, and he was pretty sure he was going to die. No joke. Death was imminent, mostly because now he was convinced Antti was doing every single fucking thing on Douglas’ List of Reasons Antti Niemi is Annoying and he was doing them on purpose. Doug wasn’t entirely sure how one could blush on purpose, but leave it to Nemo to figure that one out.

The man literally blushed at every single thing Douglas said. Everything! And it made Douglas feel happy inside and ugh, that was such a gross feeling, he wanted it gone. Except whenever he got that feeling, it was accompanied by something from the Annoying List and that was more than enough to want that feeling to remain around forever.

Wait. No. That didn’t make sense. Douglas was used to that though- lately, nothing made sense to him, especially when Ni-Nem- Antti was concerned. All logic, reasoning, and logic- wait, did he already say logic? whatever- went straight out the window whenever Doug saw the other man. His knees got a little wobbly (which in of itself is a feat, because, seriously? refrigerator) and he forgot all of his English and most of his Swedish and he was lucky if he got out of any encounter with the Finn with any shred of dignity intact.

The only thing he could still be proud of was the face that he hadn’t blushed. He had not blushed at a single damn thing Antti had done and if he was a paranoid man, which he wasn’t so fuck you very much Jumbo, he would suspect Antti was trying to get him to blush. Whatever. It definitely would not work.

Douglas should really learn to not underestimate the man that was currently sitting in his lap.

No, you read that right. The man that was currently sitting in Douglas’ lap and smirking like there was no tomorrow.

“What are you doing?” Doug demanded, and no, his voice did not sound choked at all.

“There was no place else to sit,” Antti pouted and gestured to the nearly six feet of open seating space next to Douglas. “It’s so crowded.”

“Uh-huh,” Doug’s throat was dry. “So you sit on me.”

“Well,” Antti inclined his head, smirk still playing on those truly ridiculous lips. “Your lap is very-uh-generous.”

“Are you calling me fat?” Douglas didn’t know if he was really offended or not, but he needed an emotion besides dumb glee to go with so, yeah.

“No!” Antti gasped theatrically, putting a hand to his mouth and nearly falling off Douglas. The Swede absolutely did not steady him at all.

“I would never,” Antti continued, leaning in close. Doug swallowed thickly. “I was just saying....your big lap must mean there are other parts of you that are also big.”

Doug felt his mouth drop open as the words sank in and suddenly, a white-hot heat was spreading across his chest, his neck, his face, and Antti cheered enthusiasically.

“YES!” he crowed in delight. “I knew it. I knew it. You complain about me blushing so much, I knew I could do it.”

The smirk widened as Douglas could only gape openly at the celebrating Finn and suddenly, something inside him snapped and he stood, nearly dumping Antti to the floor before the other man righted himself, looking unaffected.

Doug crossed his arms and leveled the best glare he could at Antti, who merely laughed in response.

“You look like a little kitten!” he said in delight, reaching out to muss Douglas’ hair. “Don’t pout, little kitten!”

Douglas caught Antti’s hand as he went to move it away and suddenly Antti froze, smirk slowly sliding off his face as he stared up at Douglas.

“Don’t ever try and make me blush again,” Doug said lowly, and before he quite knew what he was doing, he pulled Antti forward and kissed him hard.

Well. Ok. That was what he had been feeling, and it took Douglas all of two seconds to realize he really, really liked this, and then another three to realize Antti apparently felt the same. 

 

Those fucking lips were as soft as they looked, and Douglas made an appreciative sound deep in his throat as Antti nipped at his bottom lip.

When he finally pulled back for air, Antti was wearing that fucking smirk again, and Douglas rolled his eyes.

“What?” he finally demanded in exasperation. “What is it now?”

“Nothing,” Antti said lightly. “Just that if I had known that all I had to do to get you to kiss me was to make you blush, well....”

“Well what?” Doug’s voice was low, and Antti looked up slyly through his eyelashes.

“I would have had you blushing the second day of training camp.”

Oh.

Douglas grinned and pulled Antti back in, manfully resisting the urge to fistpump and the other man came eagerly, his ears and cheeks typically bright red.

Ok. Maybe the blushing thing wasn’t so bad, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> not gonna lie. those lips *are* ridiculous. you know it's true.


End file.
